


the human version of the dancer emoji

by Missy



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Dark, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Gina buys some dancing shoes from a pawn shop.Shoes that slowly but surely sprout a life of their own...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesleepingsatellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/gifts).



They were made of red velvet; the soles bright and slippery, as if they’d been dipped in oil and polished to a satiny shine. Gina was not normally a lover of pawn shop accouterments - ew, owning something poor person had been forced to hawk – but she couldn’t seem to resist the pumps. They’d look amazing with her golden sweater and her black skirt.

It was, she decided as she slid them on her feet, as if they’d been calling out to her. 

 

*** 

 

“Gina,” Captain Holt said as he peeked around the corner of his office door, “I know you love to dance, but I think it’s a bit much to start wiggling about in the middle of finding me directions to the state comptroller’s funeral.” 

Gina glanced over her shoulder at Captain Holt, confusion on her face. “Was I moving?” she asked. She glanced down at her feet and let out a surprised shriek. “No! No, feet, I put you on a coffee break! I’m trying to keep you well-rested for our night at the club!”

Holt’s expression was implacable. “Are your feet somehow rebelling against you?”

“It’s these new shoes,” Gina said. “They have a power over me. A power I can’t contain or control.”

“And what does that feel like?”

She paused and then said, “Like I’m made out of spiritual jelly. So sort of amazing but sort of terrible.”

“Remind me to stop asking you questions this late in the day,” remarked Holt, returning to the safety of his office. 

 

*** 

She was the queen of the club, popping and locking like she had been born dancing, winning the approval and delighted applause of her audience. 

Even when she wasn’t really moving. Some guy bought her a martini just for leaning against the wall to catch her breath. She was sipping it when a voice piped up. “Excuse me.” It sounded seductive. “You’re such an amazing dancer. I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

Gina gazed away from her drink to see a short, red-headed woman, plump with piercing eyes in a purple glitter-spangled jumpsuit. There was something dreamy about her around the eyes, and Gina couldn’t quite put together what exactly. “Oh, sure.” 

“Where did you get those shoes from?”

“These?” Gina automatically hid her secret. “From Macy’s.” She cringed to even say the word.

“No,” the girl said, rolling her eyes impatiently, “There’s no way they came from a department store.” She pointed to her own feet, clad in patent leather purple pumps. “Did you buy yours at Sixth Street Pawn too?”

“I don’t do pawn shops…they’re sticky…” Her heels kicked skyward, causing her toes to smack into the underside of the bar top. “All right, yes! I bought them from a pawn shop! You must never tell my ancestors I sinned against my Gold Card!” 

The girl smiled and handed Gina a small card. “I think you might be interested in this.” With that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Gina glanced at it before tucking it into the breast pocket of her suit. Who had time to read when all she wanted to do was dance?

** 

More and more she lived for her nights at the club. More and more, everything else drifted away. Even her family. Even, shockingly, Twitter. When the red-haired girl next approached her Gina was at the heart of a cluster of men. She felt groady but well-loved, so the sight interruption proved only a minor annoyance. 

“Have you considered my offer?”

“What offer?” Gina yelled to be heard over the music.

“The one on the back of the card.” With some intensity, the girl said, “there’s a place for people like us. Special people! People who are better than eighty percent of the rest of the world. The drinks are never empty there, and the men look like 90’s Ben Affleck with 2016 Ben Affleck’s abs!” 

“I can’t hear what you’re saying!” Gina yelled back. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” the redhead yelled. “Would you just come with me? I promise you won’t regret it!”

Gina eyeballed her half-empty drink. “Will there be Stoli there?”

The red-haired girl, her smile mysterious, said. “Where we’re going the vodka flows like water and you’ll never, ever be tired again.”

Gina shrugged and picked up her bag. Anywhere else had to be better than this place. They didn’t even have Sriracha peanuts, and what high class bar didn’t have fancy mixed nuts in this day and age?”

“Sriracha peanuts literally grow on the trees where we’re going,” said the redhead.

“Huh?” Gina yelled.

“Never mind,” she said, and led the way into the cold.

 

**** 

 

They searched for her then. They search for her now. 

But there’s been no sign of Gina Linetti since that winter night, beyond a series of footprints that stop, mid-stride, in the middle of the sidewalk outside the Stardust Night Club.


End file.
